Preparing for the Dagor Dagorath
by Erelil Awarthiel
Summary: The Recreation of Arda is upon us. The armies are ready to strike, and the long prophesied Dagor Dagorath is drawing near. However… not everyone is as ready for it as others. Morgoth seems to be more than content with being stuck in the Void, as long as it means he won't be losing.


**A/N: This is a humor fic where the characters are OOC (out of character). I tried keeping the archaic and ancient speaking ways, but probably failed at keeping it throughout the whole story. I'm not sure if I got the humor genre to really shine through here, but I tried. Also I'm pretty sure the Void doesn't have doors, but I didn't know how to describe the entrance, so I just went ahead and said door. This is not a part of the _Tales of the Morningstar_ series. Disclaimer regarding all my fanfiction works are in my bio.**

 **Summary:**

 **The Recreation of Arda is upon us. The armies are ready to strike, and the long prophesied Dagor Dagorath is drawing near. However, not everyone is as ready for it as others. Morgoth seems to be more than content with being stuck in the Void, as long as it means he won't be losing.**

* * *

"Melkor!" Manwë shouted as he threw open the doors to the Void, for the hundredth time this week. No wait, hold on, for the hundredth-and-seventeenth time this week. But it was not like Melkor was counting, considering the amount of other things he had to do in the black hole of nothingness.

"Yes, dear brother?"

Manwë was staring holes in his, uh, spirit as he strode over with determined steps. "You cannot avoid a prophesied battle. You're supposed to have broken out of here by now, for Eru's sake! But here you are, sitting fully content, as if you are on vacation!"

Melkor gave him an innocent smirk in response. It seemed to anger his brother even more, and the Dark Lord leaned back against the wall like it was the most comfortable settee in all of Arda. "For the prophesized battle part, I figured it was foolish of me to start a war I could not have won. It makes me cranky when I'm not able to do my victory dance after a battle. So I am taking an age off. Besides, I must admit that this place is rather adequate. I have everything I need in here: air, emptiness and nothing—what more can you wish for?"

"Peace! You can wish for peace, something we've strived to accomplish for a long while."

At that, Melkor lost his mocking facade and leaned forward to give his brother an intense, icy glare that would make even the boldest of creatures quiver with fear. His tone was no longer carefree and relaxed, but as sharp as his glare. "Oh, we would have had peace already, had you just let me build Arda in _my_ vision!" And then, like a flash of lightning, his cold expression was gone. It had been replaced by that same taunting smirk, like he had never lost his cool in the first place. "But no, always the good King you are. And to think one Half-elven, blonde Mariner speaking of hope and redemption was all it took for you to give in and send armies to Beleriand. You destroyed peace that day, just so you are aware. The elves were as much as defeated, and there was none left to challenge me. You had your land and I had mine, but then again, you probably felt threatened. That is understandable, you were always the lesser brother in power," Melkor taunted him.

"If you would've just sung the songs in _peace_ without protests, we would not have been here in this situation."

Melkor sighed and rolled his eyes, as Manwë towered above him, "I could not. Your wife kept raising the tones so high I wouldn't be able to keep up by the second verse, even if I tried. And Ulmo was always going over the top with his deep and overdone final notes. I get it 'Lord of Waters' your voice is as deep and wild as the Sea, but what about thinking of the group-part, hm?"

"What are you even speaking of?" Manwë stood there and watched his brother in confusion, his brows furrowed. Just as Melkor opened his mouth to reply, the Vala shook his head. "It matters not. We are leaving, now. You will command your armies out so we can end them and finally fulfill this prophecy."

"Oh really, is that a threat mighty King? What are you going to do? Send your pesky little talking turkeys after me, perhaps?" Melkor challenged.

"Like your flying slugs with hideous breath is any better?"

"Well then, if you are truly the 'Lord of the Breath of Arda' why don't you shove some mint leaves down their throats? I've always made sure that my titles are well-earned, now I believe you should do the same. It as bad for a Vala such as yourself to not hold true to your given titles. Had it been up to me, I would've gone for a name more fitting for your position, like Manwë the Softie. I am referring to the Half-elven Mariner part again, if you're wondering."

"Stop these poor attempts on antagonizing me. You _will_ leave this place!"

"Oh, I would _love_ to leave! Although I cannot. As you see I am a bit…chained up at the moment." Melkor shook his arms dramatically, and the chains that kept him there shook wildly.

"If you were set free from Angainor, would you escape?"

"No," came Melkor's simple reply.

"But you just said—"

"I said I would love to escape, not that I would." The Dark Lord shrugged his shoulders. Ah, how he enjoyed seeing his brother in this state of desperation and frustration. Had it been up to him, he'd be doing this all day.

"Just you wait, Morgoth. I will see to it personally that the prophecy is fulfilled."

"Oh, then I have the perfect idea. If you truly wish to see it done why don't you take my form, command my armies, and do it for me? You can ask Eönwë to cover up for you. Then when you- I mean when my armies are overthrown, _then_ I can put in the effort to find a way to escape," the Dark Lord suggested, a smile planted on his face. Figuring his time was better spent doing literally anything else, Manwë turned his heal around, and went with hurried steps towards the exit. "Give my regards to your wife. I can hear her sometimes, her voice. Screaming- I mean singing out loud." Melkor chuckled to himself, but the King of Arda gave him no reply, "Same time tomorrow then? Or a few hours from now, if my calculations are correct, although you know the grip of time isn't that easy to catch in here."

At last Manwë had reached the door he had entered through a while back, and he couldn't wait to be out of there. He wondered how this fool had survived himself for all these ages. Once the door was shut, the echo of a thousand locks and chains being put back filled the emptiness of the Void. Alone in darkness sat the Evil Lord once more, and placed bets on how Manwë would try to get him out next. Not that he could bet with anyone else than himself though, but it kept him amused.

* * *

 _(Two hours later)_

The doors opened now for the hundredth-and-eighteenth time, and the blue ropes of Manwë was seen coming closer, "Melkor!"

"Manwë, how I have missed you in those two whole hours we've been apart. If you keep this up, your wife's going to wonder if there are others in this void but me."

"Don't you dare utter my wife's name in mockery! And this time, it will be different," Manwë informed him.

Melkor nodded slowly, and smiled as he looked up at the Vala, "I'm sure it will, brother."

* * *

 **A/N: Interpret the ending as you'd like, whether this was all just a trick and he got loose, or if poor Manwë continued to try to get him out of there, is up to you lol. Please leave a review, if you've read this far :) Until next time!**


End file.
